Chapter 4
Tony stared in dismay at the sign taped to the door of the dentist's office. "Closed due to family emergency. Sorry for the inconvenience." It was hell anymore for him to ask for time off for dental appointments. After that whole undercover thing when he'd used that excuse roughly once a week, Gibbs looked askance at him every time he asked. Why hadn't they called him, he wondered, and then he remembered. He'd given them his cell phone number, and he'd had a new cell phone issued, with a new number. And apparently he hadn't actually managed to set the call forwarding correctly.
So, now he had a choice, he could go back to work and look for the mythical bad guy who'd killed Deputy Logan and Gunnery Sergeant Cheavers, or he could go home, have a couple beers and watch a movie. Even though he knew Gibbs would probably kill him if he ever found out, Tony opted for the latter. It was already almost four, anyway.
He opened his front door and walked inside, dropping his backpack onto the table in the front hall. What the hell was up with the air conditioning? It was always so cold in his apartment lately. He went over to the thermostat and found that it was off. He turned it on, but cranked up the heat instead of the air. It was July. He shouldn't be so damned cold all the time.
Going into his room, he took off his suit and pulled on a pair of sweats and a turtleneck. Wouldn't McGee rib him if he saw him going around like this in July? Instead of a cold beer, he opted for hot chocolate. After putting the cup down on the end table, he put a few movies into his DVD player and settled on the sofa with the remotes. When that didn't make him warm enough, he pulled down a throw. Maybe he was getting sick. Cheery thought.
He was just about halfway through Casablanca when the lights started flickering. He looked up in irritation. Brownouts happened sometimes at this time of year, but they were annoying. Both the TV and the DVD player turned off, and they didn't turn back on again. Tony sighed and turned them both on. The DVD started loading the menu screen, so evidently the player had forgotten where he was in the movie. The lights flickered and the TV turned off again. Tony gave up. He got up and picked up his empty cup to carry it into the kitchen.
And that's when he saw her. Or it. Or whatever pronoun was used to describe ghosts. McGee would probably know. He stopped stock still, staring at her. She wasn't moving as fast as she had in the clearing, but she was moving towards Tony, her hate-filled eyes fixed on his.
He took a step backwards. That was another thing that was different from the clearing. He could move, but it took enormous effort. It was like the moment he saw her, his joints seized up. She kept coming, and he kept moving away, steadily. For the moment, they seemed to be keeping the same pace, but there was a wall behind him that would block his progress soon.
Dean had said that ghosts were tied down. Apparently, Dean was wrong. Tony's back hit the shelves that held his DVDs, and he found himself stuck, staring, watching her come. She was still ten feet away, and the agonizing slowness of her approach was driving him nuts
Suddenly, there came a knocking on his door. Tony looked towards it, startled. He wasn't expecting anybody. The lights flickered again, and she was abruptly closer by two feet.
Tony tried to call out, but his voice wouldn't work. Then it occurred to him that he might not want to bring someone else in here. He heard raised voices outside the door, and then whoever was out there started pounding. The lights flickered again, and he heard something pop and sizzle in the kitchen. The smell of ozone wafted through the rapidly chilling air. She was suddenly right in front of him, and he was in the edges of the mist that surrounded her. He began to shiver violently, inevitably breathing the freezing air into his lungs.
The door burst open, and he heard a startled shout. "Dean!"
"Son of a bitch!"
Tony could feel ice forming on his skin, and the cold seeped deeply into him. He was going to die frozen solid like Logan and Cheavers had.
Then there was a sound like a shotgun blast, and the cold abruptly stopped. Someone came at him from the right, and he flinched, but it was just Sammy with the throw from the sofa. Dean stood on his left with . . . with a shotgun.
Then they all heard a cocking noise by the door, and all three of them looked towards the sound. Tony saw Gibbs standing there, his pistol trained on the man with the shotgun. "DiNozzo, what's going on here?"
Dean pointed his shotgun at the man with the Marine-style haircut, waiting for Tony to come up with an explanation that the guy would buy.
"Damn it!" Sam exclaimed, and Dean turned just in time to see Tony collapse bonelessly to the floor. Sam caught him before his head hit, and the white-haired guy took several steps forward.
"What's wrong with him?" he demanded.
"That's a little hard to explain," Dean said.
"Try."
Dean figured this guy had to have been a Marine. He had the same attitude as their father'd had. "Well, see –" Dean started, but he broke off when the man spoke.
"I know who you two are," he said. Dean's shoulders slumped a little. He hated the way those law enforcement types looked at them once they'd discovered their public pasts. "My father is Jackson Gibbs."
"Of Stillwater, Pennsylvania?" Sam asked incredulously. Dean's back straightened and looked at Gibbs with a new curiosity. This wasn't the standard law enforcement reaction, and he wasn't sure what to do with that.
"The same." His eyes went to Tony's shivering form. "What's wrong with him?" he demanded again.
"Vengeful spirit," Sam said. "You're not a hunter, are you?"
"Nope," Gibbs said, abruptly lowering his pistol. "Just know they exist, and that there's a reason for them. Used to see them come to the store when I was a kid."
Dean lowered his shotgun as well, then caught movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned, raising the gun at the same time. Iris was back. He shot her with the rock salt, reloaded, and then said, "The getting to know you stuff can come later. Let's get him onto the sofa."
"You do that," Gibbs said, staring at the spot where Iris had been. He turned and walked into the kitchen.
Dean didn't waste time wondering what he was up to, he just took Tony's legs and helped Sam carry him to the couch. Then Sam disappeared in the direction of the bedroom while Dean got a sofa pillow tucked under the guy's head. He leaned down to listen to his chest. There was a rattle there he didn't like.
"What's wrong?" Gibbs asked, and he sounded alarmed.
"It's probably the pneumonia again," Dean said.
"What do you mean, again?" Gibbs shoved him aside, dropping a carton of Morton's salt on the end table. He touched Tony's forehead and bent to listen to his chest. "Damn it, DiNozzo!" he growled.
"What are you yelling at him for?" Sam asked truculently.
Gibbs sent Sam a death glare and grabbed the blankets from him. "You two get the protections up before she comes back." He started tucking Tony in, and Dean thought he looked remarkably like a father with his kid. "I hope you have salt on you, because DiNozzo's out."
Sam picked up the salt carton and shook it. "Well, we've got some in the car, but –" Dean pulled out the flask full of salt, and Sam broke off. Dean began to draw a circle of salt around DiNozzo and Gibbs, making sure there was room inside it for someone to stay with the shallowly breathing man.
"So, you know about salt, but you're not a hunter?" Dean asked.
Gibbs shrugged. "What's the story on this ghost? Why's she after DiNozzo?"
"He used to be a cop," Sam said. "And –"
"So did I," Gibbs replied.
"Military police, which is apparently not the same from her perspective," Sam said. "Besides, we think she's targeted Tony and won't be able to target anyone else till she's . . ."
"Till she's killed him," Gibbs finished for him when Sam seemed disinclined to do so. "So, where is she buried? I seem to recall that's the solution, something about burning the bones?"
"Salt and burn," Dean said. "And she wasn't buried, she was cremated."
"That doesn't make sense," Gibbs said.
"We're trying to figure out what other remains she might have left behind," Sam explained. "It could be a lock of hair, it could be anything, but her family's all dead or left the area, and no one wants to talk about the tragedy."
"When you say anything, what do you mean?" Gibbs asked. "Are we talking teddy bears, or –"
"Body parts," Dean said. "We –" Tony started coughing suddenly, and they all turned towards him. "You need to sit him up," Dean said, but Gibbs was already in the process. He sat the younger man up and started thumping his back.
Once Tony was quiet again, Gibbs lowered him down to the pillow and looked up. "You've dealt with pneumonia before?"
Sam started shaking his head, but Dean nodded. Jerking his head towards his brother, he said, "Sammy. When he was about seven. I was eleven."
"I don't remember that," Sam said.
"I'm not surprised," Dean replied. "You were delirious for a week."
"Antibiotics usually kick it off faster than that," Gibbs said.
Dean shrugged. "I couldn't go to the doctor. Dad was off hunting, and I wouldn't have been able to explain why he wasn't there." He grimaced. "I was about to go anyway, but then Dad got home. After that, we always had antibiotics on hand."
"So, we need to find out what this woman might have left behind that's keeping her around, is that it?" Gibbs asked.
"We need to, yes," Sam said, making the 'we' about him and Dean, not including Gibbs.
Gibbs stood up, eyes narrowing. "Most of your victims don't come with a top investigative team attached, I'm guessing," he said.
"Not that buy what we're telling them, no," Dean said slowly.
"I've got someone I need to call. Dean, look after him." He gave up his spot in the circle and stepped away. A little startled, Dean followed his instructions, and when Tony began to cough again, he got him up and pounded on his back for him, then lowered him down again.
