A/N: You all are wonderful :) It's a huge encouragement to receive such positive feedback. Thanks for the adds as well. I'm glad to see you all enjoying my work. And now...the next chapter...

With Bobby on speakerphone, the agents had gathered with the brothers around the kitchen table, a map of the city spread in front of them. Bobby, with a similar map open before him on his desk, was using the scrying device and a similar ritual they had used to find Lilith in order to pin down where they should begin their search. With very little information to go on, they were left to the beginning of the investigation, being pointed in a direction by a man almost on the opposite side of the country. It was easy to see the skepticism that stayed front and foremost on the faces of the NCIS team.

McGee, though he seemed to be weakening quickly, refused Abby's repeated requests to rest, determined to stay at the table with the rest of the team. He needed to know what his purpose was. Doubts clouded his mind, and his thoughts were dark. With him being this weak already, he was unsure of what good he would do the team at all. Even with the angel's assurance that he was needed, he wasn't sure that he was going to last long enough for anything to actually happen. The furtive glances that were thrown his way over the table showed just how concerned those gathered were, checking every few minutes or so to make sure he was still okay when he'd go silent. Dr. Mallard, or Ducky as it seemed the team called him, sat to his left, and Abby to his right, each keeping a sharp eye on him when they weren't adding their own feedback to the conversation.

Abby, it seemed, was the most open to concepts of the supernatural of those gathered, which surprised no one. She slept in a hand-made casket, one that she had tediously made herself. Religious and spiritual tattoos were hidden all over her body, known from her own admissions, leaving Dean sometimes staring at her, trying to picture what she was hiding under the scanty layers she had on. For some unexplainable reason, he found himself drawn to her, despite the fact that she wasn't even close to his type.

Dean started as he felt a sharp slap land against the back of his head, drawing him from his thoughts, and he glanced back, finding a slightly bemused Gibbs standing to his side, lowering his hand. Tony clapped him on the shoulder, laughing slightly.

"Welcome to the team," he joked.

"What was that?" Bobby asked eagerly. "Hit him again. For me."

"Oh, real cute, Bobby," Dean smirked, knowing how sometimes Bobby felt taken for granted, especially by the brothers. He knew Bobby had been waiting for an opportunity to do something exactly like what Gibbs had done for a long while. "How about you make with the Latin and leave the smackin' to somebody else."

Grumbling and occasional mumbles greeted his comment, and he knew Bobby was smiling despite the fuss he was making. His efforts, however, returned to the task at hand, reworking the spell to locate the bodies of the deceased military personnel around the area. It took long moments, but he finally began to read out the spell and a soft whirring could be heard as the scrying device came to life, circling around the map.

"Huh."

"What is it, Bobby?" Sam asked. "Get anything?"

"More than I bargained for," came the answer, followed by the sound of fingers scratching against stubble. The desk on the other end of the line creaked as Bobby leaned closer to the map. "Your map have the city blocked off in letters and numbers?"

"Yeah, Bobby."

"Right then. I've got an area smack dab in the center of the city. Pointer ain't stuck on it; it just keeps circlin' it. Blocks D and E, numbers 4 and 5."

"You know what's there?" Dean asked, looking up at the team leader.

"Yeah," Gibbs answered, "a few youth centers and an abuse shelter, mostly for women, battered spouses, that kinda thing."

"Sounds like a good place to start. Hey, thanks, Bobby." He stood as the line went dead, looking around the table. "Who's up for a little scouting?" He flashed a winning grin, holding his hands out, still feeling a bit uncomfortable.

"I'll go," Tony volunteered, drawing an approving nod from his boss.

"If we're not back by midnight, bring the cavalry, Sammy." Dean grabbed his jacket, gesturing for DiNozzo to follow them. Together, they walked out the front door.

Moments later, those inside heard the Impala fire to life, purring as she idled before pulling away from the curb. Sam smiled slightly, always having loved that sound. It startled him a bit when he came to realize that all eyes had now focused on him, having him alone in the house without his brother seemed to be the opportune time to pump him for information. The underlying theme was struggling for belief that the things the brothers hunted actually existed.

Sam pulled out his father's diary, briefly dashing over the family history before flipping through a few of the pages, introducing them to the lore around several of the more dangerous creatures and manifestations they'd faced. Each case was fresh in his mind as if it had only just happened, yet felt so foreign. It had been so long since they'd had a hunt without dealing with demons or the end of the world.

Finding he had a captive audience, he was more willing to talk about some of the darker times they'd faced, leading up to the Apocalypse. Those gathered seemed very interested about the angels, and just like anyone would have been, were surprised to learn how cold and ruthless angels were. He spoke of Raphael and Zachariah, of Uriel and Castiel, and the power struggle that was happening in Heaven, leaving out what they knew to be true of an absent Father.

Each memory he relived brought another with it and soon, he found himself lost as if drowning in a never-ending sea. He had stopped talking and now simply stared at the table, his mind being whisked along on the journey he had no wish to take. Michael and Lucifer circled his mind, hateful words and feelings swirling and ripping through him, jealousy and fear, love and misunderstanding. He felt his fists pummeling into his brother's face with bone-shattering force again and again, hearing and feeling the crunch beneath his fingers and the blood that coated his hands. He felt the embrace of the pit as he fell inside, taking Michael, and his brother Adam, with him.

Suddenly, he felt a small hand take his and he blinked, looking up into the smoky eyes of the Israeli agent Castiel had called Ziva. She had leaned close to him, an unnatural understanding covering her beautiful features. He found himself captivated, the flood of memories leading him dangerously close to the Wall halting as quickly as they'd started.

"It is difficult to keep so much bottled inside, is it not?" she questioned softly, so only he could hear. "I do not judge you, Sam Winchester. I see you." She stepped back, meeting his eyes once more.

He sucked in a deep breath, not realizing he'd forgotten to breathe in that moment, lost in the unexpected peace she had brought him. It took a long moment, and Ziva retreating to her place across from him, before he was able to collect his thoughts enough to continue. With Dean gone, it would be his job to bring them up to speed on the possibilities of what they might be dealing with.

He cleared his throat. "So, sacrifices mean we're most likely dealing with humans. Sacrifices usually mean a ritual, so that leaves us to figure out what the ritual is for. Warriors are oddly specific. Nordic mythology is littered with references to Valhalla, the Warrior's Heaven." He flipped through several more journal pages, his lips pursed in thought.

"If we're dealing with humans, shouldn't this just be our case anyway?" Gibbs asked, pushing away from the table in favor of coffee, a rich, pungent brew filling the air as he filled the coffeemaker.

"It wouldn't be just humans if Cas needed us here," Sam pointed out. "Humans may be making the sacrifices, but they're not the ones behind them."

A general murmur of agreement passed around the table.

"Anyway, all we can do is...guess until Dean and Tony get back with something to run with, if they find anything at all."

"Tony's a trained investigator," McGee managed.

Sam offered him a half-smile, raising a brow. "Not with the kind of stuff we deal with, Tim."

A heavy silence settled through the kitchen, the prospect of the possibilities seemingly endless.

000086753090000

Dean and Tony peered out the windows, driving slowly around the block that Bobby had indicated. It was evening and the streetlights had just came on, giving them only a few remaining minutes of daylight to scope out the street.

"Is it usually this quiet?" Dean asked, glancing at the agent before turning his gaze back to the street, finding a place to park.

"No, not usually."

They stepped out of the car, Tony pacing appreciatively to the rear opposite of Dean as the latter opened the trunk, revealing the arsenal it held.

"I was gonna say 'sweet car,'" Tony began, his eyes traveling over the weapons in slight shock, "but this...is awesome."

Dean laughed, handing the agent a duffel. "Wasn't always this way, ya know." He pulled open a small container, leaning further into the trunk. "This car was bought...out of love. Meant to be a family car. Trunk wasn't always full of weapons. Later modification." He found what he was looking for, holding out a plastic ID for Tony and a plain leather necklace with a tarnished pendant.

"What's this?" he asked.

"Animal control badge." He grinned, popping the trunk shut. "And that necklace will keep ya from gettin' possessed."

Tony studied the pendant briefly before pulling the necklace over his head, tucking it beneath his shirt. He shouldered the duffel, turning to face Dean.

"Here, take this too." He dug around in another duffel, pulling out a wrinkled jacket. "Too damned clean cut for a city worker."

Tony grinned, sliding into the jacket, finding it a surprisingly comfortable fit. "Shoulda seen me when I was a cop with the Baltimore PD." He fell into step beside Dean as they made their way toward one of the youth centers.

"Yeah? Stylin' then too?" Dean chuckled.

"Nah, man," he replied, reflecting for a moment, "there were...tube socks."

"Dude!" An unusually amused laughed sounded from deep in his chest, catching a hitch in his stride before he composed himself. "You're alright, Tony."

They made their way around the fenced-in buildings, managing to make their way into the closest youth center just by flashing their plastic cards, announcing themselves as animal control. They were left free to search the building, searching each room thoroughly before turning to the few volunteers, Dean doing a quick sweep of each person, checking for signs, symbols, or unusual behaviors. Finding nothing, they left the building, trekking toward the next building over. Dean knocked on the outer door, stepping back as the door swung open, a small woman stepping down to meet them.

"Can I help you?" she asked.

Dean flashed his card, offering her a smile. "We're with animal control, ma'am. Had some reports of some rabid animals in the area, particularly squirrels. Few of the buildings around here have reported hearing rustlings in the ceiling. We're doin' a sweep of the area and the local buildings. Just finished next door."

"Oh, my," she blinked slowly. "What do you need?"

"Mind if we have a look inside? Check for holes and the like? We'll be real quick. Just want to make sure ya'll stay safe."

She tucked a loose strand of blonde hair behind her ears, reaching up to turn the door handle to let them in. "Just make it quick. My girls get a little jumpy around men, if you know what I mean."

Dean's eye caught on her wrist, which she quickly pulled back as they filed past. He nodded to cover up the stare, instead, pushing Tony toward the back of the facility to start their search.

"Is it just me, or does this place feel extra creepy to you?" Tony asked quietly, trying doors. "And what is that smell?"

"Definitely not just you," Dean murmured. "This is the place. That's incense...and decay. Maybe a bit of sulphur. Hard to tell. That lady that let us in had some sort of symbol on her wrist." He stopped short, pointing down outside of a door, noting blood that had pooled just outside. He tried the handle, finding the door locked.

"I think...it's time to leave."

tbc...