Gibbs kept his gun trained on the young man in front of him. This was a crime scene, what was a civilian doing inside the house? Not to mention the fact it had been sealed up tight, yet there had been no sign someone had broken in – the guy was good. They heard a shot from the room next door and before Gibbs could take a step the young man was gone. "Sammy?" he followed him through the doorway to see him kneeling beside another young man, he had a bullet hole in his shoulder.

"Jesus, Sammy, what have I told you about getting shot, huh?" he asked angrily, Gibbs could see the anger was there instead of fear. Because when all is said and done anger is far more useful than fear. Sammy blinked slowly at the man keeping pressure on his shoulder.

"Only get shot by someone you can get away with killing. Good thing I got shot by a fed, huh? You might actually have killed a person…" Sammy winced as the older man lifted his torso up so he could see the back of his shoulder.

"It went straight through, there's some luck I s'pose. Now I don't need to go digging for bullets. Hey, considering the feds are here already you can go to an actual hospital. I changed my mind; if you're ever getting shot in the future, it has to be by a fed. Then I won't feel like I should kill them and you get a hospital instead of whiskey and cotton thread." He chuckled down at Sammy, keeping pressure on the wound.

Gibbs stepped forward slightly and knew suddenly that the young man's attention had never wavered from the three agents in the room, he had just been acting. "He doesn't need a hospital. Our autopsy doctor can fix him up. Come on, you're under arrest."

Much to Gibbs' surprise the uninjured man stood slowly, helping Sammy up. "This autopsy guy wouldn't have a thing for performing autopsies on people while their still alive, would he?" Gibbs frowned, shaking his head. "Okay, we'll cooperate, just had to make sure, I met a guy once who did that…" he let his voice trail off, keeping a close eye on Sammy.

His gaze flew up to the McGee and Tony, who were staring at him, pure rage shining in his eyes. "These may be the best circumstances for my brother to be shot in but that doesn't mean I'm happy. If I ever find out which one of you two shot him I swear I'll beat you to death."

"Dean, leave them alone. They're a little trigger happy, perhaps, but can you blame them? Not supposed to be any living people at a crime scene. Not meant to be any people this long after the crime." Sammy mumbled to his brother.

Gibbs couldn't believe it; they had three agents with guns trained on them and they were acting like nothing out of the usual was happening. Not only that but Sammy had been shot already and they weren't all that alarmed. He moved in. "Tony? Take Sammy to the car, we need to get him to Ducky as soon as we can." He pulled out handcuffs for Dean who was eyeing Tony.

Sammy mumbled something under his breath before looking at Gibbs. "It's Sam, just Sam. Not Sammy." Dean grinned at his brother.

"Anything happens to my brother and I'll give you a taste of hell." He spoke softly, calmly. Tony knew that didn't change the fact that he was serious, that he knew how to do things beyond imagination. Tony nodded and Dean handed Sam over to him, keeping a careful eye on them until they left the room.

"Come on, if you want to get back to headquarters in something even close to one piece I suggest you let me cuff you." Gibbs growled. Dean eyed the cuffs for a moment before sighing and holding his hands out in front of him.

x x x

They had been in the car for five minutes when Dean leaned around Tony to get a decent look at his brother. "Sammy? How you doing, man? Give me a category…"

Sammy squeezed his eyes shut in concentration for a moment and then relaxed a little, eyes still closed. "Toronto. Maybe not even as bad as Toronto…Dean just relax, would you? A doctor is going to patch me up instead of you, for once."

"Doesn't mean I have to like you getting shot, bitch." Dean mumbled, leaning back in his seat.

Sam's mouth twitched. "Jerk." Tony looked from one brother to the other and shook his head, obviously they communicated with each other a little differently than most.

"Hey, you two pipe down or I might just take him to a vet instead." Gibbs growled from the front seat, looking at Dean in the rear vision mirror.

Dean tilted his head to one side and watched the older man for a moment. Finally he shrugged and watched the scenery fly by his window. "I spy with my little eye something beginning with B.S." Dean mumbled against the window.

Tony glanced around. "Bus stop."

"Bird shit, down the side of the building back there. My turn again." He watched for a moment. "I spy with my little eye something beginning with S.F."

"Store front." Sam spoke quietly from the other side of the car, he was looking out of his window.

"How did you…?" Tony asked, astounded.

"Those are the rules. What you spy has to be on both sides of the road. Only S.F. was a store front." Sam lifted his uninjured shoulder in a lazy shrug.

"How did you know what was on the other side? You didn't even glance that way." Tony asked, he couldn't believe this.

"Reflections in the glass of the window, Tony." Dean spoke as if he was bored. Gibbs was impressed. Their reaction times and eliminating skills must be quicker than most to be able to play the game like that.

"My turn." Sam spoke. "I spy with my superman eye something beginning with…I" Tony sat between the two brothers looking from one window to another. He couldn't see anything.

"Intellectuals. Trust you Sammy. Can't keep you away from those bloody books. Okay. I spy with my little eye something beginning with…W."

"Weapons. Guns and swords." Sam answered almost immediately. Gibbs was impressed, these boys were fast. "I spy with my little eye something beginning with P."

"Police, sheriff on your side deputy on my side." Dean answered as soon as the letter was out of Sam's mouth. So, they were very aware of the police. "Hey, Sammy. Ready to be fixed by a real doctor? This is the first time we've been to a real doctor in forever." Gibbs was worried by how excited Dean was over a real doctor. What kind of life must these boys live if they never see a real doctor?

"No, you were in hospital that time when your heart was failing, remember? And that other time…" Sam mumbled across Tony's chest.

"Not for long though. God, hospitals give me the creeps." Dean shuddered and Tony almost laughed; this big tough guy was scared of hospitals.

"Yeah, 'cause you checked yourself out you idiot." Sam bit back at his brother. He was breathing a little harder now so the bullet wound must be giving him a little trouble.

"Least I got to check out…" Dean said so softly it was barely a whisper. Gibbs felt the sudden shift in emotions between the two brothers. Glancing in the rear vision mirror he saw the haunted look in Dean's eyes. "No way in hell am I gonna die in a hospital." He said, covering his real emotions so quickly Tony was impressed.

"What happened with your heart? And why'd you check out? Heart problems are really serious…" McGee spoke from the front seat.

Dean grinned at him. "Yeah, they told me I had a few weeks, possibly a month. I'd rather die in a motel room with peace and quiet than in a hospital, besides Sammy found me a cure. You ready, little brother? You better grit them teeth 'cause you gotta get out now."

x x x

Dean cursed inside his head. As soon as Gibbs had stopped the car they had separated him and Sam, wouldn't let him go with his little brother. Damn them! So he was stuck here in an interrogation room, sitting as calmly and quietly as he could. They'd unlocked one side of the cuffs and it was now locked to the leg of the table which was firmly attached to the floor.

They'd taken his cell phone along with everything else. He stood up and tugged on the cuffs. The metal rubbed against his skin and he frowned. Why couldn't they have left a paper clip? He walked a couple of short steps to the right and tugged. "Sammy? You better be okay or I'm gonna kick your ass." He mumbled.

Walk left…

Tug.

Walk right…

Tug.

Walk left…

Tug.

He planted his feet and leaned back, the handcuff biting into his wrist.

x x x

Ducky and Gibbs were watching from the other side of the mirrored glass. "He cares deeply for his brother. But I fear his feeling of responsibility toward Sam overrides his emotions. The only apparent reason for his wanting to leave is to go to his brother."

"He's got to know he can't get out of those cuffs Ducky. Why's he tugging like that? Look at his wrist." Gibbs watched in concern as Dean continued to tug at his cuffs and continued to cut into his flesh, blood starting to ooze lazily from the wound.

"He can't sit by and do nothing when his brother has been shot and handed over to strangers. You should really go in there Jethro." Ducky cringed as Dean gave one hard tug.

Gibbs nodded, leaving the room to reappear in the other room. Dean stopped tugging and faced Gibbs, irritation showing quite clearly on his face. "Where's my brother?"

"I need you to answer a few questions for me Dean. First of all, what were you doing in my crime scene?" Gibbs asked, sitting down in front of him.

"Where's my brother?" he asked again. "And what'd you do with all of my stuff?" he sat back down. Ducky watched in astonishment as he, seemingly unaware of it, kept tugging slightly at the cuff.

"Your brother is fine. Ducky saw to his wound. Abby's going through your stuff to see if she can find any evidence." Gibbs leant back and watched Dean closely.

"Can I talk to Sammy? Nothing that'll help us collaborate stories. Just a quick hello to make sure he's really okay." Gibbs could see he wasn't going to get anything out of him until he got to speak with his brother.

Gibbs turned around in his seat and looked at the mirror. "Ducky, get Tony to bring Sam in here for a minute." He turned back around to face Dean. His face gave nothing away, only that irritating grin the boy was constantly wearing.

After a few moments Sam walked through the door, hands cuffed in front of him. Tony was behind him, hand on his uninjured shoulder.

Dean stood up, tension that Gibbs hadn't seen in him suddenly left. "Sammy, you okay? They treating you good?"

"Yeah, Ducky's very good. I got a few tips for next time to make it a little neater." Sam leant forward and tapped Dean on the ribs with both his hands. Gibbs was shocked to see his face pale and his jaw clench. "You didn't tell them you were injured did you Dean?"

Tony stepped around Sam and studied Dean for a moment. "Show me."

Dean stepped back. "It's nothing, man." He glared over Tony's shoulder at Sam. Tony took his moment of distraction to lean forward to lift his shirt. Before he could even realize Dean had moved, Tony was on his back on the floor.

Sam cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Umm, yeah. Sorry, forgot to mention that you shouldn't touch him unless he agrees." He helped Tony to his feet.

"Alright, you've seen your brother is alive and well. Tony take Sam back." Gibbs leant back in his chair. The manouver Dean had pulled to put Tony on the floor had shifted his jacket to hang back behind his ribs and Gibbs could now see the old blood caked on his shirt.

"Yo, Sammy." Sam turned his head at the doorway. "Call Dad in Arkansas." Sam nodded and kept going. Dean leant back in his chair. "So, we've been trying to find our dad."

"You just said he was in Arkansas, Dean." Gibbs answered.

"Well, that's the only message bank we have for him. We keep leaving messages and hoping he gets them. Hasn't called us back in a long time." Dean shook his head as if it were a great tragedy.

"Give me straight answers, boy, or I'll show you hell on earth." Gibbs growled.

Dean tilted his head to one side and smiled. "Not much you can do to me that hasn't already been done."

Gibbs left the room, going into the observation section to speak with Ducky. "He's been wounded recently. See the side of his shirt? When Sam hit him it must have hurt like hell but he didn't make a sound."

Ducky nodded. "I'll go in and see if I can do anything for his wound."

x x x

"Alright, young man, let me have a look at you…" Ducky walked into the room and Dean got as far away from him as he possibly could while cuffed to the table. "It's okay, I'm Dr Mallard. I saw to your brother."

Dean studied Ducky closely for a moment but didn't relax or approach him. "Look, Doc, I'm fine. Sam was just being a ninny. All's well, no need for a doctor…"

"Sure there isn't, I can see the blood on your shirt. Let me help." Ducky took a step closer and Dean tensed. "If you're worried about me putting you under I assure you I won't. I'll just give you a local."

Dean scowled. "How about you give me a bottle of bourbon? Then I might think about it."

"Later. Now, sit." Dean reluctantly complied, shaking his jacket and flannelette shirt from his right shoulder when he was told. Ducky lifted his under-shirt to see what was beneath the blood-caked material. "Oh my."

Gibbs came in and looked over Ducky's shoulder. He'd seen many things but this almost made him gag. Dean's entire right side of his ribcage was marked by five jagged claw marks to the bone.

"Gibbs I'll need to remove his shirt completely to deal with this. Could you remove his cuff, please?" Ducky asked, without looking away from the wound.

"No. My shirt stays on. More than welcome to uncuff me but this shirt is not coming off." Dean spoke adamantly.

"Young man, you look like you've been to hell," Ducky and Gibbs noticed his grimace. "Now, let me help you feel a little better."

Gibbs hadn't touched the handcuff. He'd seen how easily the young man had put DiNozzo down. He had no doubt that if Dean felt like it he could escape. There was something in his eyes that said he could push that wound so far out of his mind it wouldn't even tickle.

Abby came bursting into the room with a journal in her hands. Her eyes were sad as she looked at Dean. "Sorry I had to go through all your stuff." She put the journal on the table in front of him and he picked it up quickly. "That's your dad's, right? That last page was Sam's writing. I got him to write out the alphabet and it matches. What happened to you Dean?"

He closed his eyes, fighting to keep the images at bay. To prevent them from surfacing in his eyes, but then the gothic girl spoke again. "He wrote 'The hounds have taken him, Dean's in the Pit.' What did he mean?" he lost the struggle with the memories and they rushed him.

He opened his eyes and Ducky couldn't believe how haunted they were. A moment ago he had been carefree despite his wound and now he looked ancient and worn out. He looked at Abby and blinked slowly. "Go ask Sammy, I'm sure he'll happily spill his guts."

Gibbs watched closely as Dean closed his eyes, took a deep breath. He started tapping his finger on the table to a beat, slow and steady. Finally he opened his eyes and the carefree mask was back in place.

He slowly pulled a paper clip from his father's journal and picked his cuffs. He didn't seem to be planning an escape, he just didn't like being chained to an immovable table. Gibbs had seen this many times in torture victims, the hatred of being pegged down, and so he merely watched as the handcuff fell away from Dean's bloodied wrist.

x x x

Sam sat so still in his interrogation room it was beginning to irritate Tony. He was in the observation room wishing something would happen. Gibbs walked in and sat down in front of Sam.

"We asked your brother about the one entry you made in your father's journal. He said if we asked you may feel compelled to answer." Gibbs watched the younger brother's expressions closely, hoping to find out something about these brothers.

"He doesn't like outsiders to know about it. He especially doesn't like it when people talk about it in his presence. Something he'd rather keep as buried as possible." Sam looked at his folded hands on the table.

"I don't care about your brother's feelings. I go by my judgment on people's character and right now I can't figure him out. Care to lend a hand?" Gibbs leaned forward a little.

"If you care to lay off on the Marine thing, sure. It won't bother us, just irritate; Dad's the only one who can pull it off on us." Sam sighed and looked up at Gibbs. "You're going to think we're insane…oh well. When I was six months old and Dean was four our mother was burned alive; pinned to the ceiling of my nursery. Dean carried me out of the house. A demon killed her, don't know why. Anyway, Dad found out all he could and started hunting anything evil. We grew up like warriors, Dean's especially good at it."

"So you both grew up hunting evil things. What kind of evil things?" Gibbs asked.

Sam shrugged. "Ghosts, werewolves, vampires, poltergeists, schtriga, wendigo, demons… I left for four years and went to law school. Dean stayed with Dad, in that world. You gotta understand, most hunters only start out hunting in their thirties and even they end up retiring if they live long enough. Dean's been hunting without pause for his entire life. He had a four month break."

Gibbs nodded slowly. "I've seen some unbelievable things in my time, ain't too hard to accept the fact that there's things out there too scary to think of…So, his four month break?"

Sam's eyes filled with guilt. "I got killed, caught in some demon's little war game. Dean made a deal with a cross roads demon to get me brought back. Normally the person who approaches the demon gets ten years and then she sends the hellhounds. Because they wanted Dean so badly she gave him a year, with the promise that if we tried to break the contract I'd be dead again in an instant."

"So what happens, how do you pay for the deal?" Gibbs asked slowly.

"The hounds drag you to the Pit. He was kicked back and joking the whole time, even when he started seeing them. They tore his body to pieces," Sam shuddered. "And I didn't see him again after we buried him…until four months later."

"I'm assuming he has the same body as before? How is it that he didn't rot?" Gibbs asked. "And how is it he's back?"

"I don't know how he didn't rot or how he got put back in his body. All we know is he got dragged out of the Pit. He won't tell me what happened…"

"Dragged out? Dragged out by what, Sam? I like details…" Gibbs leaned back.

"He was dragged out by Castiel. Dean calls him Cas. He's an angel." Sam mumbled.

Gibbs laughed. "You guys sprout evil things with such authority and you mumble about an angel? Most people are more likely to believe in this Castiel than demons and things."

Sam shook his head. "We didn't believe in angels until Castiel pulled Dean out. Before he came to see Dean we actually thought it was a demon."

"You boys aren't too fond of holy things, are you?" Gibbs asked after a moment.

Sam shrugged. "What can I say, we grew up killing the bad things and nothing ever popped up to help. Evil things we know well, but angels? Haven't had much to do with angels."

Gibbs nodded before leaving the room. He leant against the wall in the hallway between the two rooms. Ziva approached him quickly. "Gibbs, you can't possibly believe what they're saying…about the evil things…"

He shrugged. "I've seen some things in my time, Ziva. There's a lot that I couldn't explain. These boys Ziva, they know things. I recognize a warrior when I see one and these two are the real deal."

"Gibbs!" McGee rushed into the corridor. "I found their records. Dean's wanted for murder, torture, bank robbery, credit card fraud, a whole list of things. Sam's wanted for aiding and abetting. These guys are serious. They've been in F.B.I. custody a couple of times before and they've gotten away. Local cops have held them hundreds of times and somehow they always disappear…"

Dean walked out of his interrogation room and glared back inside. He didn't walk anywhere, just stood. Gibbs turned his head to look at the young man. Dean noticed the movement in his peripheral vision.

"Gibbs you keep this doctor away from me. I really hate to hit a good person but I will if I have to…" Ducky took a step closer to Dean and he stepped away again.

"Its okay, Dean, I can help. Your wound really needs to be seen to." Ducky reached out a hand, pleading the young man with his eyes to allow him to help.

Dean shook his head. "Poured disinfectant over it every morning since I got it." He stepped away from Ducky again. "Yo, Sammy!" he called out.

"Dean? What the hell are you doing walking around?" Sam asked from behind the door of his interrogation room. Dean walked in and uncuffed his brother.

"Trying to keep away from that damn doctor is what I'm doing. Can't they just understand I'm happy without him fixing me?" he sat down on the table, waiting for someone to come in but no one did.

"Dean, these guys are good. Gibbs believes us, I think he's seen something; no one ever listens to us so easily unless they've seen something. You should let Ducky help. He's good. Besides, they already know you were in the Pit and that Castiel pulled you out…"

"Jesus, Sammy. Dad raised us to know how to put a good bullshit story together and you never do. Couldn't you have made something up?"

"Just because you don't want anyone knowing how important you are doesn't mean they don't want to know. Gibbs is a good guy and we need to help him solve his case…and to do that you need to let Ducky help." Sam grumbled.

"I can handle this job just fine as I am." Dean snapped angrily, he got up and started pacing. "How long do you figure before the F.B.I. sniffs us out and starts pulling strings to get us back?"

"They won't." Gibbs spoke from just outside the doorway. "McGee's getting quite good at hiding things from the F.B.I., they won't even know we searched your information."

"Good, that means we can help you get the bastard killing those Marines without idiots getting in the way." Dean grinned over his shoulder at Gibbs.

"Not until you let Ducky patch you up. Are you so sensitive you can't take your shirt off around a doctor?" Gibbs asked, his eyes not leaving Dean's face. He knew there was something underneath that shirt that Dean didn't want anyone seeing.

"Dean, they know Castiel pulled you out. This isn't going to shock them much more than everything else…" Sam spoke softly. "And it's the only way Gibbs is going to let us do our thing so…"

Dean was muttering about the injustice of blackmail and how he hated being near real doctors, pulling his shirt off. Abby walked into the room just as he threw it on the table. "Oh my god. What happened to you?" she pushed him into a chair.

Dean looked down at his chest, covered in scars. "Which one?"

She frowned, noticing the rest. "Umm, originally I was looking at the new one…"

Dean shrugged. "We were hunting a wendigo, they might look slow but their quick bastards. He took a swipe at me." He saw where she was looking next; the burn on his shoulder in the shape of a hand. "That was when I got pulled out of the Pit."

"By Castiel, he's an angel." Sam added in. he didn't like it when new people judged Dean badly. Liked it even less when they judged him because he'd been to Hell.

"Damn it, Sammy, quit talking about Cas." Dean swore, glaring at his brother. He felt Abby looking at his back. He was covered in claw marks that were swollen but healed. When they were inflicted they would have been extremely deep. She reached out and touched one to let him know which one she was looking at. He grimaced. "Hellhounds."

Ducky came into the room with a medical bag in his hand. He stopped in his tracks when he saw Dean's chest. "Oh my, I've normally got some story or another to compare to anything I see but this…I've never seen anything like this." His eyes filled with sympathy.

Dean scowled at the floor. "The sooner you fix me, doc, the sooner Agent Gibbs is going to let me do my job…"

"You sure are a dedicated one, aren't you Dean?" Tony asked with a smirk from the corner.

"You have no idea what these things can do, DiNozzo. I've grown up with it. I know how to kill them and how to find them. Hunters can't stop hunting because there's too few to pick up where the last ones left off. Dad's generation had so many more hunters than ours. People are just too close-minded these days." Dean snapped angrily.

Ducky touched a couple of the hellhound wounds, staring. "Dean, these wounds, they should have killed you…"

He grinned at the older man and Sam cleared his throat. "They did, Ducky. He was gone for four months."

"In a coma?" Ducky was clearly confused. He started tending to Dean's new wound.

"No, we buried him-"

Dean cut in. "Yeah, when you should have burned me. Idiots. I can't believe you two didn't burn the body. That's S.O.P. and next time I expect you to follow it. We burnt dad's body, why not mine?"

"You burned your father's body? Why did you do that?" Ziva asked, sliding passed Gibbs to enter the room.

"Because," Dean said, taking the disinfectant soaked cloth from Ducky and scrubbing the wound far more thoroughly than the other man was game to do without some form of anaesthetic. "It's the only way to make sure they don't come back."

"So you're okay with the fact that you expected your little brother to burn your body?" Ducky asked slowly.

"No, I'm not okay with that. I actually thought our friend would step up to the plate and do it for me but he obviously didn't feel like it that day." He glanced down at the bandage Ducky was about to wrap around his rib cage. "No, doc, limited movement."

"Oh, come on." Tony smirked, shouldering himself away from the wall. "You can't be serious…"

Dean stared at him for a moment. "I've been doing this gig long enough to know what gets in the way. Trust me, bandages around the rib cage? More trouble than it's worth. Now," he looked at Gibbs. "I believe I have a phone call…"

Gibbs tossed him his mobile. Dean caught it and started dialing a number. Gibbs gave him a look and Dean put the phone on speaker. "What the hell do you want?" a male voice growled out.

"Bobby. It's Dean."

"Dean? Where are you boys?"

"Captured, NCIS Headquarters in DC. Standard Fed phone call game, please."

"Yeah, sure. What can I do for you Dean? You've been caught before and you haven't called me…"

"Umm, yeah. You're on loud speaker. These NCIS guys are smart and we may or may not need help after we finish this job. So, remember that box I brought to you a while ago? Do you still have it?"

"Of course I've still got it. You told me to keep it locked till you either called me or died then I was to give it to Sam to open…why? Oh, and you NCIS people had better watch out what you do to those boys. There's plenty of folks that would come avenging…"

"Oh lay off it Bobby. Now, listen. No matter what these guys do the F.B.I. will find out we're here eventually. Now, I need you to find Sammy a damn good lawyer. There should be enough in that box to cover it. If not you know where the forms for the Impala are and you can sell her."

"What about you Dean? You got more charges against your name than anyone I can think of…" Though it was asked as a question, Gibbs could tell from the resignation in Bobby's voice that he already knew the answer.

"Exactly. Sammy has less to fight and we've only got enough money for one good defence lawyer. You take care of Sammy's court or I swear to god no matter how I go I'll haunt you something fierce."

"Dean, I don't like this… If your dad was still alive he'd kill me if I agreed to this…Beside, the world doesn't need to lose your exceptional hunting skills."

"And I promised him I'd take care of Sammy. Besides, he's the brains and I'm the muscle. There's always more muscle out there. Now, this geeky agent here has probably almost cracked your scrambler so we'd best finish up for now." Dean hung up the phone and tossed it back to Gibbs.

"Dean, what the hell are you thinking? You can't expect me to accept this!" Sam yelled.

Dean glanced up at his brother. "You're being irrational Sam. Your case is the only one that a jury might consider letting you walk. Mine's jacked. I'm following the path that will set one of us back out there. Besides, it's my money I can spend it how I like."

Sam shook his head angrily. "I can't believe you're doing this, man."

Dean chuckled but his eyes were haunted again. "I went to the Pit for you Sammy, what makes you think I wouldn't do prison to see you free?"

"You can't make me go along with this! I'll confess to everything they're blaming you for-" Sam fell backward when Dean's fist connected with his face. He leant back against the wall while Dean glared at him.

"That is exactly what I expect you to do! I promised Dad one thing Sam and that was that I would look after you. And that is exactly what I'm gonna do!" Dean shook his head and turned away.

"That guy said if your dad was still alive… I take it you two aren't searching for him?" Gibbs asked quietly.

"We like to have our stories straight until we know what kind of authorities we're talking to. We were originally looking for him, found out his message bank was working in Arkansas." Dean answered gruffly

"What good would it do for you to call your father now if he's dead?" Ziva asked.

"Bobby looks after his phones for us. One of us had to call Bobby and I figured Sammy was most likely to get that phone call so I told him." Dean grinned.

"I won't let you go to prison for the rest of your life Dean." Sam frowned. "If they let you live that long…"

"Sammy," Dean smiled. "Dad brought me back and he asked one thing of me. To take care of you. Now, if you don't let me do that I've failed the terms and conditions and therefore Dad died for no reason."

"Brought you back?" Abby asked softly, tears in her eyes. She was hugging herself, upset at how much Dean had suffered and how much more he was prepared to suffer.

"We were in this car crash…I died. Dad sold his soul to yellow-eyes to get me back." Dean shrugged.

"You died? Really?" Ziva scoffed.

Dean smirked at her. "Cruising round hospital corridors and walking through people. Me and Sammy even played oiji boards."