Chapter Two

They followed him for another hour and a half on what seemed like random, spontaneous errands. One gas station for gas, another for snacks. A barber's that was mysteriously open on Sunday night, where apparently they only took off a quarter inch, because it didn't look much different when he came out. A nail salon of all things, which Dean was eager to tease Tony about. Pedicure, he guessed. One upscale organic produce market, emerging with only a small sack. A trip to the standard grocery store ending with a whole bag, but without going back to Tony's apartment to unload it.

But the museum currently in front of them was different.

It was obvious that some black-tie formal party was going on. Tony's car pulled up to the valet, where the 'shifter got out wearing a suit jacket that made his work clothes look dressy enough to fit in. As he reached the security in front of the doors, they could see him flash Tony's badge and pull aside the jacket slightly before being nodded on inside.

"Should we tell the guards they let an armed and psycho monster crash the party?" muttered Sam.

"I think we'd better go in this time. There's probably some big-wig government officials in there, and I bet one of them is who the guy wants to be next. Our suits are in the trunk. Come on."

But Sam shook his head. "I don't think that'll get us in. There're probably tickets or a guest list we won't be on, plus we've got to bring in our silver bullets and knives. We could flash our FBI badges, but then we'd be on camera as suspects if this goes south."

"Sneak in the back?"

"I guess so. Wait, how about we knock out the back guards and go in with their uniforms?"

"Sounds even better. Wear our guns openly. And once we spot him, maybe we can radio in the threat so the other room'll get cleared out."

"Yeah. Let's hurry. I don't know how quickly this 'shifter can change bodies."

They drove around the building and parked a block over. If anything went wrong, Dean didn't want his baby picked up on the cameras in a suspicious place. Grabbing their weapons, they put extra clips of silver bullets in their pockets and walked casually to the museum's rear.

Fifteen minutes later, the phone rang at Gibbs' house. He and Tony were in the basement keeping their hands busy. They were both watching the clock and itching to call Dean themselves, so Tony reached for his missing cell before it registered that the land line was ringing.

Gibbs did a double take at the caller ID and looked at Tony as he answered. "What is it, McGee?"

Putting away the wood he'd been sanding, Tony couldn't guess why Tim would be calling the boss' house on a Sunday night. Maybe he wanted a sick day tomorrow?

Gibbs' eyes widened almost comically at whatever he heard. "No, they won't let us near this. Call the girls and I'll meet you at the office after I've talked to the Director." The way the phone slammed down was not a good sign.

"What is it?"

His boss' eyes were still wild as he took the stairs two at a time. Tony had seen that horror-struck look only a handful of times in the past decade, and his own heart rate exploded as adrenaline kicked in. Catching up to Gibbs in the living room, he found the tv being warmed up and flipped to CNN.

Which is where he saw his face front and center over the words "Breaking News: Multiple Assassinations in DC."

"What the HELL?"

"We'll set this straight, Tony. But we're going to have to do it carefully, by the book." Gibbs was still slightly freaked out, but it was pale beside the panic attack Tony was about to have.

As his mouth hung open, the phone rang again.

Not recognizing the caller number, Gibbs answered cautiously. He was worried that it might already be the media. The news screen had just changed to show a security camera's clear view of Tony's creepycopy opening fire on- oh God, was that the Vice President?

"Hello?"

"I need to talk to Tony!" yelled a deep voice, loud enough for Tony to have heard it.

"That's Dean!" he exclaimed as he grabbed the phone from Gibbs. "Dean, what the hell happened to stopping the guy?" he demanded.

Gibbs snatched the phone back and put it on speaker.

". . . following him to this fancy party. Sam and I were five minutes behind him getting in, but that's when he started shooting. By the time we got close enough to take him out, he'd gotten off at least ten shots. I don't know how many hit anyone, but-"

"Six," Tony yelled angrily, having seen it on the muted tv while Dean was talking.

"Shit. I'm sorry, man."

"Oh, God. You don't know who the victims were."

"Wait, how'd you know there were six?"

"It's all over the news. One of them is the Vice President! Of America! And he shot the Secretary of Defense, the Air Force Chief of Staff, two congressmen, and a museum worker."

"Dude, it just happened ten minutes ago." Dean sounded slightly rattled at the list, but not enough in Tony's opinion.

"It's the twenty-first century!" he pointed out scathingly. "And my picture is the main story!"

"Crap. Yeah, that's what we were calling to tell you. I'm sorry about this, Tony, I really am. But you're going to have to disappear. Tonight."

"What? No, we're going to prove me innocent and then figure out who the creepycopy really is."

"Are you still at Gibbs'?"

"Yeah, but we're about to go to the Navy Yard." Tony glanced at Gibbs, who nodded.

"We'll meet you at Gibbs' in ten minutes." They could hear the car doors slam and the engine turn over. "There's more to this that you need to know before you try and come back from the dead. Just hear us out first." It wasn't pleading, but close enough that Tony believed him.

"So the copycat guy is dead?" Gibbs spoke up. The news hadn't shown that on the screen, and they still had the sound off.

"Agent Gibbs, I assume? Yeah, Sam and I got there in time to actually take him out, which the other four guards' weapons couldn't do. It's part of what we need to talk about. He was planning to just walk back out the door as somebody else. Look, I'm sorry we couldn't prevent this completely, but no one knew this guy was looking for anything besides a new identity to steal."

"I expect the *full* story in a few minutes," Gibbs ordered.

"Yes, sir," Dean answered seriously, then hung up before he could be told to drop the 'sir.'

Tony just sat down and turned up the volume.

"Dean, how do you really expect to convince two genuine feds that a monster is real?" Sam was getting worried. "They're gonna think we're lying, then they'll arrest us as suspects and take us in for questioning. And look up our records! Oh, God. Dean, we can't go talk to them in person! Just do it over the phone."

"Look, if Tony doesn't run, then *he* is gonna go down for assassinating the Vice President."

"What? Holy shit!"

"Yeah, and all those other victims were important dudes, too."

"Okay, but we can still convince him on the phone," Sam argued.

"They'll just hang up on us when we start to sound crazy!"

Dean had a point, but Sam didn't want to admit it. "So how does tonight *not* end with all three of us in jail?" That was unacceptable, even if it meant sacrificing Tony. Sam shuddered to think what the legal system would do to Dean.

"We can take down two old guys if necessary. They won't be expecting us to have our weapons on, and Tony doesn't even have one."

"I'm pretty sure they're experienced with suspects who run." Sam was resigned to Dean not backing down, but still strongly dreading the upcoming confrontation.

"Hey, if you're not fast enough, I'll break you out of jail."

"Ha, ha. Great plan, Dean. They'd better believe us. Do we have any hard evidence? Of *anything* paranormal?" They both thought about it for a couple minutes.

"I guess we could summon some ghost they'd know," Dean offered.

"That takes hours. I doubt they'll be willing to wait that long."

"True."

"What if they called someone who's seen the supernatural? Like Detective Ballard?"

"She's a good idea, but they wouldn't trust any number we gave them. I'd be too easy to have an accomplice on the other end. Maybe do some other magic spell?"

"I don't know if that would help them believe in a shapeshifter."

"Well crap, Sam. I'm out of ideas. How do we usually convince civilians?"

"We don't even try unless they've already seen something unexplainable."

"Shit. Shit! This is going to go badly."

"That's been my point all along," Sam said darkly.

"Don't worry. I've got an idea, but it's a last resort. First we can just focus on convincing Tony he can't walk down the street with that newly-infamous face."

"Yeah. Should we stop off and pick up some hair dye?"

Dean shook his head. "They weren't happy about waiting ten minutes. Can't afford the delay. I bet we can get him disguised easily enough later, as long as no one else knows he's at Gibbs'."

"Gibbs sounds like the one who could cause the most trouble," Sam pointed out. "Tony might get on board for self-preservation, but his boss will want to save the guy's reputation."

"Shit."

The car was quiet for a few minutes until they arrived back in front of Gibbs' house. Dean parked backwards in front of the garage, hoping that trapping the feds in and leaving himself ready for a fast getaway would both turn out to be unnecessary.

Ten minutes of listening to the media talk about his bio and speculate on his motives to kill the country's leaders had Tony reeling in emotions. The disbelief and denial were starting to fade, followed by extreme embarrassment and growing into outrage and fury. How dare this lunatic completely ruin a lifetime of being an upstanding guy. Tony could admit that he liked to think of himself as a hero, and now it was devastating to see how quickly others could think of him as the evil villain.

Gibbs kept glaring at the screen like his force of will alone was going to fix this. Twice now he'd even clapped Tony on the back, which revealed a lot about his own agitation. If even his boss was worried, Tony knew the future was going to be brutal.

Finally they heard a loud engine pull up in the driveway. Neither man moved away from the tv, but the Winchesters didn't wait to be let in. Sam and Dean came through the front door without knocking, and got their first look at the media circus they had avoided at the museum.

Tony's official NCIS badge photo had never left the screen, staying up in the corner even while the focus was on a reporter or the security footage of the shooting. It didn't seem to surprise the brothers, but Tony appreciated Sam's wince. Dean walked over and pointed at a part of the screen, where two security guards soon entered behind the main action, shot once each, then walked out of view.

"That was us," he said simply.

Sam quickly added, "We would have made the body disappear if it hadn't been a public place," It sounded like an apology.

"Why?" demanded Gibbs. "That's the evidence that it wasn't Tony." He clicked the tv off and turned his most intimidating persona on the two young men. Tony them remembered that they hadn't met.

"Boss, this is Dean and brother Sam," with a nod to which was which. "Guys, this is Gibbs. And he's right- the copycat's body won't match my fingerprints or DNA."

Sam shook his head and started to open his mouth, but Dean spoke up first, completely changing directions. "Tony, if you step out the door right now, anyone who gets a glimpse of you is gonna scream bloody murder. Three days without shaving won't be enough to keep people from recognizing you. The public is already sure you're guilty."

"Fine. Then we'll throw on a hat on our way to the office," said Gibbs. "This will all be sorted out before morning."

"Even if there was a retraction," said Sam, "Tony's face is going to be notorious for a long time to come." He looked at his brother as he spoke with an expression that showed they had some sort of past experience with the situation.

"It's okay, guys," Tony said. "I appreciate you wanting to look out for me, but I can handle all that. I'm actually not bad at going undercover."

Gibbs scoffed at the understatement, but added, "You can crash here as long as it takes, DiNozzo."

It got a small smile. "Thanks, boss."

Dean cleared his throat and sounded very uncomfortable when he spoke up. "Um, actually the dead body *is* going to match Tony's DNA and fingerprints."

For a moment, it seemed like a joke, and Tony wanted to laugh. But the Winchesters both looked like they were sorry to be breaking the bad news.

"Seriously, that's not possible," Tony reassured them.

"Not normally, no. But we're, um, not exactly normal PIs," Dean admitted. "Our specialty is cases that seem impossible, and we've actually come across this same thing twice before. The copy's body will match yours right down to the paper cut you got last week. And whether you believe us or not right now, in a couple of days the autopsy report will confirm it. So I need you to re-think how easy it's going to be to claim your life back. Because just trying is going to be a nightmare, messy in ways I don't wanna guess. But even if you win, that doubt will never go away in the minds of the public after the media's dissected you ten ways from Sunday. And add that to wearing a famous face and name, well, not only is it going to be fucking difficult to do your job, but I don't think you're going to *want* to be 'Tony DiNozzo' anymore."

It was quite the impassioned speech, and it was clear that Sam and Dean believed it was true.

Silence followed for a moment before Gibbs broke it. "I'll be damned if I let Tony's reputation go down for someone else."

"I know you won't, boss." Tony smiled at him affectionately. "But what if they're right? Maybe we should wait a couple of days?"

"They're con men, DiNozzo. You haven't even known them for twenty-four hours, and you're just going to take their word about the DNA? You *know* that isn't *possible.*"

Tony looked at the Winchesters, expecting them to protest or argue, and it threw him a bit when they just sat there. Torn between his boss' point and his own gut-level trust in these two brothers, Tony dropped his head in his hands, rubbing his temples in avoidance of the headache that was growing. Gibbs was right that Sam and Dean hadn't earned the right to violate the laws of nature on their own say-so. He looked up at them and challenged, "Who are you really? In a few minutes we're going to look you up anyway, so here's your chance to earn some trust."

They exchanged glances long enough that Tony was afraid it was going to turn into rock-paper-scissors again, which would *not* make a good impression on Gibbs. Or maybe they were just deciding how much to disclose, judging from the unhappy look on Sam's face when Dean started talking.

"We haven't lied to you. Our real names are Sam and Dean Winchester, and we investigate crap that is supposed to be impossible. We were called onto this one by Detective Diana Ballard at the Baltimore PD because we helped her five years ago . . . when she was attacked by a ghost. Yes, I said ghost, and you can look her up later for the whole story." Gibbs frowned but didn't interrupt. "Twenty eight years ago, our mother was killed by something equally unbelievable. When Dad found out that supernatural evil was real, he got pretty obsessed with protecting us from it and getting revenge for Mom. The monster that we were hunting tonight is called a shapeshifter. And if you look up my file, it's going to say that I died in Saint Louis in 2006 with DNA and fingerprints to match. That particular bastard liked to torture women, so his crimes are in my file too. Along with a few other times when we've been blamed for being around at the same time and place as a monster."

"So you're criminals, and this is the best story you've got?" The tone was not amused, and Tony was pretty sure Gibbs was about to pull his gun on the Winchesters.

"Boss, wait."

"What if we can prove it?" asked Dean. He looked calm and also ready to bolt. Sure of himself, but still concerned for Tony.

"Look, either way, Gibbs really needs to go now," Tony said. "Let's err on the side of caution, boss. Give these guys the benefit of the doubt just until the autopsy report. Yes, the DNA can't possibly match mine, but on the off chance that we're wrong . . . . Well, he's right that it would be a huge mess I'd rather avoid. So go on in and investigate 'my' killing spree as much as they'll allow, but don't let the cat out of the bag about the real me just yet. In the meantime, we can look into Sam and Dean's story." Tony gave them a look that threatened serious harm if they were anything less than honest.

Gibbs looked consideringly at all of them. "Okay, DiNozzo, it's your life so it's your call," he said easily, surprising Tony. "But if you two try to run now, you'll be looking over your shoulders, because I will personally hunt you down." He glared until they showed an agreement with sharp nods. "Good. Now move your damn car out of my way before I call a tow."

With that same self-assured composure, Dean got up and walked out the door.

"Tony's got our numbers," offered Sam. "We'll find a motel and come back in the morning."

"No," ordered Gibbs. "I want you to stay here with DiNozzo, where he can keep an eye on you," he pointed out, making a show out of passing his own gun to Tony. "Prove to us that your story is air-tight." It wasn't a suggestion.

"Alright." Sam held his hands in a surrender gesture. "I'll just send Dean out to pick up some dinner."

"Plenty in the kitchen, so help yourselves. I'll be calling- No, wait. I don't want any of you answering my phone if we're pretending you're not here. Just give me your number. And tell your brother to pull into the garage and keep the door closed. DiNozzo, sit on them."

"Yes, boss!" Tony smiled at the momentary normalcy while Sam held out his hand for Gibbs' phone and quickly added himself as S.W. 785-555-0129.

Gibbs took it back and confirmed it by immediately dialing, hanging up as soon as Sam's pocket started to buzz.

The door opened and Dean walked in. Ignoring him, Gibbs left through the garage.

"He wants you to hide your car in the garage. We're staying here tonight," Sam explained.

"Seriously?" Dean was shocked.

Tony held up Gibbs' gun and waved it in demonstration. "He thinks I can keep you from running off when we get the autopsy report proving you wrong," he said mockingly.

"And what do you think?" asked Dean.

"I'm ready to consider the possibility that something really fucking weird happened here. So tell me about the other one in Saint Louis."

"Okay. Let me move the car and grab something to eat."

"All-you-can-eat bachelor fridge. Bring in your bags."

Sam and Tony were putting together ham sandwiches when Dean re-entered through the other door. None of them had eaten since McDonald's, which seemed forever ago.

Dean found some beers in the fridge and pulled them out. Sitting down at the table, he was quiet while they finished. As Sam put the platter on the table, Tony got out the plates. Good teamwork, Dean noticed.

And that was when it occurred to him that his meaningless rambling earlier with Sam about taking Tony on a hunt might actually be a possibility now that the poor guy's life was ruined. What else was he ever going to be able to do?

"It's called hunting," Dean said as Tony sat down. "What we do. There aren't a lot of us, but enough that most things get handled before they cause enough problems to get noticed by the press. Or the feds."

They all ate while Tony contemplated the idea of things that go bump in the night.

"What exactly are these paranormal things you hunt?"

"Probably half are spirits," Sam answered. "There are different types of those, but they're fairly straightforward. Sometimes we find creatures that are mutant forms of human, like a shapeshifter. Things like werewolves, windegos, vampires. Our personal specialty is demons, which is what killed our mom."

"You're kidding me," said Tony with a growing grin. "If you really think I'm going to listen to you retell the plot of some monster movies, I have to warn you that I know them all by heart." The idea that they expected him to believe in *vampires* was pretty funny.

"Where do you think all those ideas came from?" asked Sam without any sign of humor.

"Aliens aren't real," quipped Dean. "Pretty sure bigfoot is a hoax."

"So what do you hunt all these different monsters with?" Tony challenged.

Dean grabbed the last sandwich and stood up, gesturing for him to follow. Sam tagged along as they entered the garage, where Dean hit the lights and opened his trunk.

Tony was honestly taken aback when he saw that the false bottom concealed the strangest combination of weapons and superstitious paraphernalia he'd ever seen.

"Shapeshifters can only be killed with silver," said Sam. "That's why you saw it get shot a few times by the other guards, but it didn't go down until we put our silver bullets into its heart." He handed one of the boxes to Tony, who opened it cautiously and discovered a pile of rounds that did indeed look silver. And slightly rough on one edge, like they were homemade and only partially smoothed down. "Werewolves have the same weakness."

Sam pointed to a couple of black knives strapped into the top. "Some spirits are repelled by iron." He opened what looked like a gas canister and poured something white into his hand. "Salt is a protective symbol of purity that ghosts and demons can't touch." He replaced the salt and gave Tony a handful of jewelry on leather bands. "Most of those are protective symbols that have saved our asses a few times. The crucifix is part of the ritual to consecrate holy water, which can be a weapon against demons."

"Okay, okay. Look guys, I believe that you're both very convinced that this is all real. But that doesn't mean you aren't a few fries short of a happy meal."

Dean grabbed and old leather datebook before closing the trunk and leading them back inside.

"Are you really going to show him that?" Sam asked as they sat back down. Dean cocked an eyebrow as if to say, why not? "Oh my God," Sam suddenly glared at his brother, audience forgotten for the moment. "You want to turn him into a hunter."

"Dude, what else is he gonna do? Besides, we can figure that out later. This is just to prove our story."

"But you've never let anyone actually read it."

"Never met anyone else I thought needed to know this much."

"It's a shit life, Dean! No one walks into it voluntarily. Tony has other options! He just needs a new name, not a new career."

He needs new fingerprints, genius. Law enforcement is a closed door. Does he look like a guy who can disappear into a cash-under-the-table, blue-collar second career?"

"Ahem," Tony cleared his throat. "I'm kind of at my limit for repressing the panic at my possible impending doom. Can we have this discussion only after you somehow manage to convince Gibbs and myself that 'Tony DiNozzo' is a lost cause?" The anger in his voice had definitely gotten their attention.

"Of course," offered Dean. "And if it makes you feel better, we sometimes still run into things that freak us out."

"Like what?" Tony asked wearily, not really caring but thankful for the topic change.

Sam smirked. "Faeries."

Dean shuddered.

Tony found himself curious again. "Tinkerbell?"

"I zapped her in the microwave," Dean said proudly.

"Yeah, you're not helping your case. That's a load of crap if I've ever heard one."

"Oh, tell him about the giant drunk teddy bear," laughed Sam.

To Tony's amusement, Dean did chuckle at that. "Man, once you're all in, we're gonna have a field day. Wait until you hear about the first time we met a Trickster."

"Or when Dean thought a rugaru was a made-up word."

"Shut up. It *is* a stupid word."

Tony cleared his throat again, and got three more beers out.

"Seriously, Tony, this is our dad's journal. A little of it is personal history, but most of it is everything he learned about hunting. Nearly every kind of monster and how to kill it. Oh, and magic that he found helpful. We try to avoid witches, but spells are usually the only way to undo something they've started."

Dean waited expectantly for more questions, but Tony looked like he didn't know where to start. Sam frowned when Dean pushed the journal across, but didn't object again.

Recognizing that this was meaningful to them, Tony said, "Thanks," in appreciation of their faith in him. "But tell me about Saint Louis first."

Sam started that story. "A friend of mine from college went home when her brother got arrested for torturing and killing a girl. But Rebecca swore to me that she was with him at the time the crime was committed. Dean and I checked out the scene and found some gooey stuff nearby, but nothing else. The next day some other guy killed his wife, but said he saw someone else there wearing his face. We found the same melted goo at a nearby sewer hatch and followed it down. When we saw a whole pile of the stuff we could tell it was discarded skin. That's when we knew it was a shapeshifter. Shedding.

"When we split up to look for it, things got out of control. I'm not even sure I remember how it all happened," he admitted, looking to Dean.

"It grabbed me first," Dean said, "then went to Rebecca's house and used my face to get in the door before knocking her out and shifting into *her* in order to trick *you.* Right? God, it was insane. But Sam and I woke up in the sewer where it had a party proving it could read our thoughts as part of its copying mojo. When it left to go kill Rebecca, we slipped the knots and went after it. Got there just in time to save her and leave its dead body looking like me. The first time it attacked her, a couple of cops had seen my face when they nearly caught it. So they blamed it all on me and had my dead body to wrap it all up."

Sam added, "No one else knows what really happened except Rebecca. You can call her, but she'll keep quiet to protect us unless we talk to her first."

"How can I trust someone else you've conned?" Tony asked as objectively as possible.

"Because there's too many. We can probably give you a hundred names that might admit the real story if you don't tell them you're a cop."

Dean cut in. "But we don't want to bother them all unless it's necessary. We're talking traumatized victims and family members here. Let's just start with whatever incidents are in our file your boss is gonna bring back. Those are going to look really bad, but give us a chance to prove our story."

"That's fair," Tony agreed. "I was framed once, actually. Totally sucked. And it'll give me something to do while we wait for the autopsy. For now let's find you some beds and I'll get started reading your monster encyclopedia."

Knowing that Gibbs fully expected Tony to prevent the Winchesters from leaving, he took the couch for himself and led them upstairs to the guestroom.

"There's just the one queen, but I think I can find a sleep bag for the floor if that would be better?"

They waved him off. "We can share. A night on a decent mattress is worth a couple elbows in the back." That started some mild scuffling, but they looked too tired to keep it up.

"Bathroom's straight across the hall. Don't forget Gibbs was a Marine, so don't leave a mess. I have no idea if he'll be back before morning. Goodnight."

Tony walked to the next door into Gibbs' room to borrow something to wear, hoping he might also hear the brothers say something revealing. But they were quiet after Sam called the bathroom first.

Heading back down to the couch, Tony's body reminded him of all it had suffered recently. His brain was likewise overloaded, but he turned on the lamp and started reading the journal anyway. When it sounded like the boys upstairs were finished, Tony made himself climb back up and dig out a spare toothbrush from the stash he knew Gibbs kept in the left-hand drawer. As he brushed, he thought about the past twelve years of a job he truly loved with the mentor who had become a friend.

Giving that up would be heartbreaking, and he swore to figure out a way to salvage his life.